Tarnished

by Erica Chilson

  Donny’s sharp laugh is sardonic and warped. “Royce, how do you think they targeted me in the first place?” His laugh gets more strained, like it’s being pushed through a cocktail straw. “Sean found me in a gay bar up in Pittsburgh less than a week after we won the civil lawsuit. I was celebrating. I didn’t know I was his mark– the rich hillbilly with an even richer brother. By the time I figured it out, it was too late, and I’d been fucked every which way, including sideways, and I loved it.”

  In deafening silence, my brother and I just stare at each other. I try to say something, anything, but my mouth can’t form words my mind won’t supply.

  “Well, this thread of conversation is unexpected.” Agent OCD breaks into the heavy silence. “I never thought Donny would get the balls to come out to you.”

  “You’re gay?” rolls off my tongue, feeling funny and sticky, like it’s all wrong somehow. “But you were married.”

  “Three times, yes.” Donny snorts. “It’s what men my age in a town like Rusty Knob do. You get hitched, pray like hell no one spots you in cities nowhere near your hometown, and that you don’t pick up a disease in a club. But my wives weren’t happy unknowingly being my beard.”

  “What’s a beard?” I ask without hesitation. “I’ll need to know what that means for the boys’ sakes.”

  “That’s what you pick up?” Donny’s tone is incredulous. “Wanting to know what a beard is? Not the fact that I just told you Sean was my lover? You don’t ask the specifics? You don’t even mention the fact that he raped you to punish me?”

  “It all kinda clicked into place when you said you were gay. I don’t need details. I’m assuming after he hooked you, he started blackmailing you,” I ramble, still shocked and more than confused. “But why not just tell me you were gay, then he wouldn’t have anything over on you?”

  “Gay?” Donny huffs a laugh, not sounding amused. “He didn’t blackmail me over being gay. Two years into dating, after I’d given him gifts like buying vehicles and paying his bills, it wasn’t enough. He needed money for–” Donny changes the course of his words when the agent coughs loudly. “–whoever sent him. He threatened to kill you first, so that your money would revert back to me and I’d get custody of Bren. He compromised because I told him with you dead, he’d have no hold over me. The compromise was for me to have a kid. I didn’t realize he planned on killing Bren so I would be the trustee of the grandchildren’s Trust. But we had the twins, which saved Bren’s life. Two-to-one, me versus you. That’s what was going down. Sean wasn’t going to kill us that night– he was going to bring you into it and tap your Trusts next, until we were bled dry.”

  “That’s enough!” The agent barks out, coming to stand at the side of the table, leaning down on his hands. “I thought it time Royce knew enough so he’d stop asking questions and leave it be. But if you go any further, Donald, you’ll be dragging him into this and putting his life at risk. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Donny replies immediately, properly cowed.

  “You have exactly one minute to say your goodbyes,” the agent commands, pointing in turn at each of our faces. “No more talking.”

  Eyes narrowed, I glare at the FBI guy, hating him having any sort of power over me but knowing he holds my brother’s safety in his hands. “May I please give Donny a hug, just this once?” I turn to my brother. “If you want to, that is. I’m not gonna force myself on ya.”

  Snorting, eyes glittering with tears, “C’mere, dumbass.” Donny stands up from the table and takes a step toward me. I stare at his outstretched arms for a nanosecond, and then I fly into them.

  Emotions spiking and crashing, shaking uncontrollably over the fact that I’m granted permission after waiting for so long… Arms wrapped tightly around Donny’s torso, the first thought I have is how shocked I am over the fact he’s stockier than the last time I held him.

  “This is so much better than Brother Bear,” I murmur into the side of his neck, inhaling the scent of home.

  “What?” He chuckles, clearly thinking I’ve lost my mind. “Royce, you’ve got to just live your life and don’t stress out over me. I’m doing what I need to do, and you need to do what you’re already doing. Trust me.”

  “I’ll try.” I sniffle, feeling like a little guy again. “I’m not very good at it, though.”

  Donny barks a sharp laugh, a glorious sound that I haven’t heard in years. “Understatement of the century.” He squeezes me so tightly I can’t breathe, and then he’s pulling away with a quick kiss to my throat. “I love you. I miss you. Blah. Blah. Blah.” A brilliant blush is creeping up his pale skin. “Tell Willa and the kids I said hi–”

  “And that you love ‘em and miss ‘em.” I finish Donny’s sentence like I did when I was the annoying little brother. “I will.”

  “Good.” Grinning at me, feeling the chasm of separation disappearing, our silent communication skills are back online. With an eye-dart in Agent OCD’s direction, Donny leans in to whisper into my ear. “You ever gonna marry the mother of your children, or are you gonna make her live in sin for another decade?”

  Dumbfounded, I just openly gawk at my brother.

  Laughing, patting the center of my chest with his palm, “In case you’re wondering… that was me giving you my blessing.”

  “We will get hitched as soon as you can stand up with me and be my best man,” flows from my lips with conviction, even before my mind had a chance to sort it out.

  Donny fists his chest, then closes his eyes and bows his head like he’s praying. “That’s a promise,” he vows to come home to me someday.

  In slow motion, time stilling, Donny wraps his hand around the back of my neck, lowering my forehead to his lips. He places a press of a touch as a silent goodbye, and then he’s out of the room with the FBI agent in tow.

  Instinctively I know there will be no more monthly visitations in the main room with all the guards and inmates. These few moments were a gift from my brother, letting me go while simultaneously reassuring me he will be back.

  No longer set adrift, I follow the path I would’ve chosen no matter what, with my destination as Willamina Kennedy.

  Sacrifice

  “I can’t believe you left the grand opening early for this,” Bren’s voice follows me as I walk down the dirt path toward the Kennedy plot in Rusty Knob’s cemetery. I’d hoped as my son got older that he’d understand the ritual of remembrance.

  “I’ll spend ninety percent of my time at the Life Skills Center until the day that I die.” My fingertips glide along the tops of the tombstones as I walk– my way of saying hello and goodbye, a comfort for those interred that they are not forgotten. “I won’t be missed at the grand opening because this will always be more important.”

  “Visiting the dead?” Bren is so confused, I realize I hadn’t been going about this the correct way.

  “No, son. Family. Lineage. Never forgetting your roots. Taking a few moments out of your day to remember where you came from and those who helped you along the way, so you can appreciate where you are now, who you will become, and where you’ll end up.”

  Money or not, for the same reason I never built the largest house in town, or bought an expensive vehicle, I live as the natives do because I am a native. We reach the Kennedy plot, only a simple six-foot-tall cross dominates the center with our family name etched into the black marble.

  “Respect the sacrifices made.” I kneel down before Annie’s grave, placing Donny’s daisies on top of the tombstone. “I’m not forcing you to grieve or to remember. This isn’t a punishment we must go through yearly. This is a reward because we still breathe.”

  Annalise Payton Honor Kennedy

  Daughter. Wife. Mother.

  January 26th 1974 – August 8th 2003

  Herein lies mother & unborn daughter. As in life, may they never be separated in the afterlife.

  Removing a hanky from my back pocket, I begin the task of cleaning the face of Annie’s tombstone. Bren is
a silent shadow above me, no doubt mulling over the reasons I do this, and finding them a waste of time. I turn to my daddy’s grave, and take as much care as I had with Annie’s.

  Donald Brennan Kennedy Senior

  May 16th 1951 – August 8th 2003

  Kennedy Patriarch.

  Loyal Husband, Father, & Grandfather.

  “A lot has changed in the past year,” I say to Annie and Daddy, but it’s more for Bren’s benefit. “Yet it’s still the same in most ways. I’m still proud of who my children have become, and even prouder as I watch Willa and Warren struggle to better themselves. It has inspired me to find myself instead of just putting on my daddy uniform and going through the motions.

  “I’ve learned a lot this past year– I’m more than the sum of my parts. I have a lot to give, but I also deserve to take. I have people who will pick up the slack if I need to take a breather, and those same people deserve the same trust and respect I demand from them.”

  Bren’s stillness overhead makes me wonder if he’s finally getting it. Visiting the cemetery is a cathartic release– a type of therapy that can only be met head-on. You can’t hide from your grief. You’ve got to plow right through it. Pretending they never existed isn’t the answer. Celebrating their existence is.

  Brennan is more like me than he realizes. Donny was the one who would chat for two hours, then spend another hour sobbing on their graves like a melodramatic wife. But I respected his form of grieving. I always said a few words, then looked after my brother. But the entire time I longed for privacy, because this is a very private agony.

  “You know where I’ll be,” I whisper softly as I rise to my feet. Bren says nothing, but I know he will release a torrent of pent-up emotions the moment I’m out of ear-shot. He may or may not understand why we do this, but his subconscious does.

  Drifting through the cemetery, taking a moment to glance and the names to pay my respects, I make my way to the tree-line. “Same time, same place,” I mutter to Donny’s replacement, never understanding why.

  But then again, I’ve never understood a single thing Corbin Gillette has ever done.

  Blond and blue-eyed, tall and strong, looking older than he should but better than he did, Corbin’s narrowed stare freezes me mid-step. “You asked to see me– so talk,” I demand none too kindly.

  “I want a thank you,” Corbin breathes so lightly I strain to register his words. “And an apology.”

  “For what?” I scoff, folding my arms over my chest in a defensive gesture.

  Corbin mirrors me, only it’s more intimidating. How a man who’s never put in a solid day’s work is corded with muscle defies logic. “Time and time again, I’ve ruined my entire life for you Kennedys, and you never say thank you.”

  “I’m not going to thank you for murdering Sean,” I snarl. “Because of that, Donny went to prison.”

  “Don’t,” Corbin barks, and I listen. “Don’t do that shit. You don’t wanna know what Sean was doing when I pulled the trigger.”

  Raising my eyebrow, “Oh, I’m pretty sure I have a good idea.”

  “No, you don’t.” Corbin turns away from me, looking out into the distance. “You think you have to be the one to ride in and save the day, but sometimes it’s not your job. Sometimes it’s mine.”

  “Says the drunk bastard who sold his children–”

  “Says the bastard who had to get drunk so he could stand to sell his children to protect a Kennedy.” Corbin uses my words, but they take on an entirely new meaning. “From the outside looking in, it was heinous. But you weren’t on the outside, Roy. You chose to make me out to look like a monster.”

  Exasperated, “You drank before you sold Willa, Corbin.”

  “I had my reasons,” Corbin sneers. “Donny needed Willa, so I did what was best for everybody, and it didn’t turn out too bad.”

  “Too bad?” I whisper-shout, sounding incredulous. “You sold your daughter against her will.”

  “She knew,” Corbin shocks the hell out of me. “I didn’t like it, but Willa knew her future was no different, no matter who she married. She fought me at first, but then I explained and she simmered down. You know how Willa can be, better than anyone.”

  “Explained? You beat her!” Uncontrollable, I pound the side of my fist against my thigh.

  Holding his temper, Corbin surprises me yet again. “I’ve never hit a woman except for Cora, and that was because she was beating the piss out of my children.” He looks away, mumbling, “I hate my wife. Hate her. We’re toxic together. Cora moved in with her sister, and both of us are the better for it. Sometimes I snap, and I can’t help myself. I like living alone. It’s best not to have people around who make me snap.”

  “That’s no excuse… What about Warren and Wynn?” I fling the accusation.

  “Warren understands,” Corbin whispers softly. “Wynn and I are oil and water. He’s the most stubborn, judgmental child I’ve ever met. Just one look and I feel like God is casting me unto eternal damnation.”

  Snorting, I grumble beneath my breath, “I wonder why?”

  “I heard that,” Corbin spits. Arms folded over his chest, his palms curl into fists, then relax and loosen. “The tarnish on my soul belongs to you.”

  “Fine– whatever. You’ll always spin it to make you out to be the good guy.” I step side-to-side, staring at my feet, hating how Corbin always reduces me to feeling like a child. “So spin how you weren’t treating my children like shit?”

  Leaning into my face, seething, Corbin bites out the words. “I. Never. Laid. An. Angry. Hand. On. My. Grandchildren. Never. Not once. As for Wynn… I was dealing with a lot of heavy shit, and if there was ever a person on this planet that was judgmental, it’s that little shithead. Looking into his eyes was like looking in the mirror and seeing how far I’ve fallen.”

  “You’ve fallen far,” I mutter, snorting.

  “For you, you ungrateful fucker.” Losing his temper, Corbin stabs me in the chest with his fingertip. “For. You. For you I gave you my children– to protect you. I feel sick for what I’ve done to Wynn, how I made him feel. It’s like I couldn’t help myself. But I gave him up for you.”

  “How was giving up your son for me?” I bat his fingertip away, and then cross my arms back over my chest. “Explain that shit.”

  “Donny said to protect you, so I did.” Fists balled, Corbin shoves them into his armpits to contain his rage. I take a step back, knowing how hard the bastard punches. “I hope you get that you had a target on your back and Bren had one on his forehead.”

  “It would have been nice for someone–” I glare at Corbin. “–to inform me my son and I were in danger.”

  “They leeched off Donny because he’s weak, and that kept them occupied. If anything had happened to you, Kaden wouldn’t have been able to keep the kids and Bren wasn’t of age. So someone would have gotten the twins and would have controlled their money. All it would have taken was two bullets, and somebody out there would have been richer than a small nation.”

  “Yeah, so?” My eyebrows knit together, mulling over Corbin’s words. “That’s in the past.”

  “Is it now?” Corbin’s glacier stare freezes me on the spot. “I gave you my son to protect Brennan– to protect my grandchildren. You needed an adult son, so I gave you one. Did it ever occur to you how odd it was that I allowed you to adopt my son a few months before he turned eighteen?”

  “Wait– what?” Corbin stares me down as I try to work that out. “I took the kids because they weren’t safe with you anymore. Wynn tried to kill himself.”

  “He did.” Surprisingly, Corbin doesn’t even flinch. “Willa chose to come back to you for a reason. With Donny secure in prison, what good would it be killing you off– killing Bren off –if they had Kade and Wynn to go through just to get their hands on the children and their legacy?”

  “Are you saying there’s a Kennedy out there who’s behind this?” Baffled, my mind runs in circles. “There aren’t any more.”<
br />
  “And you think I’m the fucking moron.” Corbin sneers, upper lip curling. “I’d suggest you go out and adopt some more misfortunate children,” he says none too kindly. “Use them as cannon fodder to protect my grandchildren. Spread all that money around so no one can ever get a big chunk.” Knuckles cracking, he clenches his fists so tightly, I fear he’ll break bone. “Your goddamned money is a curse, and I wish I’d never met you.”

  “Met me?” I point at my chest while glaring at Corbin. “You have no problem spending my goddamned money!”

  “Let’s see…” Corbin takes out his wallet, retrieving a twenty, a ten, and four ones. With his fingertips, he flicks them in my face. “Take it! I don’t want it. It ain’t done me no good.”

  “Pick your money up.” I sigh in defeat. “You need it. Disability isn’t enough to live off of.” The look on Corbin’s face makes me say something I regret instantly. “What exactly is the nature of your disability?”

  Corbin murders me with his eyes. I’ve never seen such a look of hatred in my life. Startling, grabbing my wrist, he shoves my hands down his pants. “Clench your fist, goddamned you. Clench your fist and tear my nuts right outta their sack. Do it! You know you wanna.”

  Shocked, all I can do is suffer as Corbin shoves me away with disgust written across his face, but it’s the look of betrayal that follows that draws me up short.

  “It was never me taking your brother from you, you bastard. I was willing to get to know you, be your friend, but you always had to belittle me, make me feel small.” Corbin turns his back to me, facing the trees. “If it wasn’t for Wynn looking just like me, I’d swear he was yours… Even after I saved your life, you made me feel like scum.”

  “Why couldn’t you work?” I murmur softly, curiosity finally winning out. A montage of fights between Wynn and Kaden play out in my mind. How I generally sided with Wynn, even when Kaden had good reasons why he wasn’t working.

  Back turned to me, Corbin mutters, “Imilliterate.”